George Oldroyd - Spring, the sweet spring - текст песни (слова)

Spring, the sweet spring, is the year's pleasant king,
 Then blooms each thing, then maids dance in a ring,
 Cold doth not sting, the pretty birds do sing:
 Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!
 
 The palm and may make country houses gay,
 Lambs frisk and play, the shepherds pipe all day,
 And we hear aye birds tune this merry lay:
 Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!
 
 The fields breathe sweet, the daisies kiss our feet,
 Young lovers meet, old wives a-sunning sit,
 In every street these tunes our ears do greet:
 Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to witta-woo!
 Spring, the sweet spring.